Magic
by Richard Lawson
Summary: As her wedding to Ross approaches, Rachel reflects upon the difference between fantasy and reality.


Rachel Green knocked on the door. A few seconds later, it was opened by a tall man with a fair amount of almost-curly black hair and a moustache that looked unfortunately similar to a caterpillar. "H-hello, Rachel." 

"Hi." She smiled at him. "Is Monica home?"

Before Ross could say anything, he was grabbed and more-or-less tossed aside. "Come on, let's go to my room!" Monica reached out, grabbed Rachel's hand, and almost pulled her into the house and up the stairs.

Rachel grinned. Monica was perhaps the shyest girl she knew in school - she seemed to shrink in on herself whenever anyone else was around, and spoke in a high squeaky voice when someone tried to talk with her. But here, in this house, a totally different persona came out, one that bossed her brother about and talked back to her parents and showed just the tiniest bit of confidence and self-assurance. If only Monica could hold on to those feelings outside of the house, she might not face her current problems.

Quickly they went inside Monica's room. Monica shut the door firmly and leaned against it, smiling. "So? So so?"

"So?" Rachel took off her coat and eyed the room. Monica kept it almost painfully clean, and Rachel almost felt it a violation to disturb anything. She settled for hanging her coat over the back of a chair and sitting on the corner of Monica's bed. "So?"

"So... is Chip going to send you a Valentine?"

"We'll just have to see," Rachel said in a deliberately too-casual manner.

Monica giggled. "That means he is, isn't he?"

Rachel couldn't keep the smile from appearing on her face. "I might have mentioned in Study Hall how unlikely I was to receive a decent Valentine from any decent guy, and Chip just might have been sitting behind me as I was talking."

"Oooh." Monica grinned. "And maybe the prom, too?"

"Oh, that's months away." Still, a warm glow spread through her. "But, but maybe. We'll see what the valentine is like."

Monica sighed wistfully as she sank onto the bed next to Rachel. "I wish I would get a valentine."

That sobered Rachel up. She considered Monica for a moment - saw her through the eyes of what most guys saw. Calling her chubby would be a kindness. And if anyone tried to initiate a conversation, all they got was a squeaky series of mumbles. They needed to see this - the Monica that could smile and laugh and be excited for her friends.

"We'll get you one," Rachel said, trying to put as much confidence as she could into it.

"Yeah, yeah." Monica sounded defeated already. "They're just lining up to break down my door right now."

Rachel looked up at the door. Almost in response, it did seem to move slightly, as if someone was leaning up against it. She chuckled once, silently, at the extent of her imagination. Alas, men were not trying to break down Monica's door. Most men had a set of very narrow standards and were focused on that above all else. Rachel had often used that to her advantage, but it didn't help Monica.

She needed a different kind of man, a man who did his own thing, who didn't seem to caught up in the whole social clique thing. Someone like Monica's brother, actually. He often was by himself, involved in his own thing, and didn't seem to hang around girls much. And he was mildly cute, too. If only he and Monica weren't related. Someone like him, someone a little nerdy, but nice...

"Roy Gublik," Rachel said out loud.

Monica blinked. "What?"

"Roy Gublik," she repeated more firmly. "I saw his name in the paper the other day."

"Oh yeah. He's seen Star Wars like a million times." Monica furrowed her brow. "Are you saying...?"

"He's not repulsive," Rachel said thoughtfully. "I mean yeah, he's a high school boy, but he's still semi-polite. He might be a cool guy to hang with, you never know."

Monica tapped her lips with her forefinger. "Hmm. You, you really think so? How can we get him to... to send me a valentine?"

Rachel grinned. That had been easier than she'd expected. "I'll work on him, perhaps drop a hint at lunch."

"You sure? He won't think it's you who wants the valentine from him?"

"No." Using every bit of self-control she possessed, Rachel refrained from shuddering. "No, I'll make it clear I've got all the valentines I need. But I'll tell him how you don't have one and how cute you think he is."

Monica frowned. "Don't go too overboard on that cute thing."

"I'll be subtle." Rachel smiled reassuringly.

"Okay." Abruptly Monica hugged Rachel. "Thank you!"

"Sure." Rachel gently separated herself from Monica's grasp.

Monica beamed with excitement. "This would be so great, to get a real valentine. Say, what's your perfect valentine? What would be the absolute best valentine you could receive?"

Rachel grinned, flopped back on the bed, stared dreamily at the ceiling, and began.

* * *

.  
Rachel grimaced, settled back in her chair, stared determinedly at the VP of Sales, and tried desperately not to yawn. 

When she had given up her job in Paris, she'd thought that sales would be a refreshing change of pace. Instead of listening to people give her the same pitches over and over again, she could deliver the pitches herself, use her good taste and the ability to discern what other people thought of as attractive. She was certain she could persuade them to buy what she had to sell.

There was another side to sales, though, one Rachel honestly hadn't considered. And that what she sold to the customers may not be what the company she worked for wanted her to sell. She'd had moderate-to-good success selling the company's business apparel for women, but had made little leeway in selling any of the jewelry. Few people at the company had, and the VP was currently haranguing everyone about this, telling them to emphasize the jewelry above everything else. Rachel thought this was a mistake; it seemed best to get the company's name established as a fashionable supplier of business attire, and then later leverage that success into selling the accessories. But she was so new to sales that she wasn't certain whether this was a good strategy or not, so she kept quiet as the VP kept saying the same thing over and over again.

Her phone buzzed softly on the conference room table in front of her. Rachel picked up the phone and saw that it was a call from Ross. She sent the call to her voice mail, then as quickly and quietly as she could sent him a text message instead.

_Stuck in mtg. Can u pickup Em?_

Faster than she thought possible, she had his reply.

_Yes. MC coming for dinner, shall we wait for you?_

Rachel listened to the VP's droning for a moment, then suppressed a sigh.

_Better not. CU later. luv u_

She waited, but he made no reply. Not that one was necessary, of course. She would have welcomed the distraction, though. She put the phone back on the table and met the VP's gaze just as he was turning towards her. Rachel managed a sage nod at the point he was stating in yet another way. He seemed satisfied by this and moved on to the next person whose attention seemed lacking.

At almost the same time her phone began buzzing again. Groaning as inaudibly as she could, she picked it up again. This was from Phoebe. A slight smile forced its way onto Rachel's lips. As her maid of honor, Phoebe was doing her best to emulate Monica as much as possible, which meant trying to do a million things at once. Because she didn't quite have Monica's organizational skills (which was like saying water wasn't quite like fire), the result tended towards barely-controlled chaos. Phoebe frequently consulted Rachel on every aspect, which was just as well as Rachel was able to contain - if not entirely control - Phoebe's off-the-wall ideas for a wedding ceremony.

At Monica's insistence, Phoebe had also acquired a phone with text messaging. Rachel repeated the procedure she'd just gone through with Ross:

_Trapped in mtg. Talk later?_

It took a bit longer, but Phoebe's response came back soon enough.

_Reception hors dovers: Pigs in blankets! Joey's fav._

Rachel glanced up at the VP, then typed in her response.

_Been over this. Pork bad._

Phoebe's response made Rachel smile slightly.

_What if its kosher?_

Phoebe, bless her soul, could not get it into her head that there was no such thing as kosher pork. And while neither of them was particularly keen on following the kashrut laws, there would be people attending the wedding who were. Rachel shook her head and typed firmly:

_Cant talk now, mtg. Meet CP tmrw lunch?_

Rachel half-set the phone back on the table, just holding it up enough to read Phoebe's response:

_OK. Thought for u: evry1 lites incense during wedding._

Rachel couldn't help laughing. This drew an immediate glare from the VP. Rachel quickly arranged her features in a more sober, interested expression. Fortunately the VP seemed too caught up in his verbal momentum to be sidetracked, and the droning continued unabated.

Rachel kept her eyes firmly on the VP as moved aimlessly around the conference room. Inside her head, she began enumerating the things she'd rather be doing right now at the very moment.

* * *

.  
"First of all, he delivers the valentine to me in person, no sticking it in my locker. We're outside, and it's bright and sunny, we're standing on a hill, or in a meadow - just somewhere that's green and natural. When he walks up to me, he's perfectly dressed - no ragged jeans, no t-shirts. Slacks and a nice shirt with a collar, no tie. Also, he's clean-shaven." 

"What, no beard or moustache?" Monica interjected.

Rachel considered that. "I guess those are fine, as long as they're neatly trimmed. I want him to look like... like Kirk Cameron. Not exactly the same - although that wouldn't be bad - but dresses like him, coiffed like him, the whole bit. And he's wearing cologne, nothing overpowering, just a small drop that makes him smell more like a man."

"What's the valentine like?"

"It's just a simple card in a pink envelope. He hands it to me and he says, Rachel, my heart, my morning sun, you fill my heart and mind so much that it bursts, and I can't contain it, and so I had to give this to you. Words cannot convey what I feel for you, but I hope this begins to say what my mouth dare not."

"Oh, that's beautiful."

"And I take the envelope and open it, and the outside of the card is two hearts interlinked. Inside the message is simple: Will you be my Valentine? And he's written a personal message, perhaps added some poetry, part of a sonnet or something. And in it he says that he loves me as he's loved no other woman, and that our happiness begins when I accept him into my heart. And then..."

"And then?"

"Then I look up at him, and my eyes are beginning to brim with tears, and he takes me into his arms and kisses me, gently and tenderly at first, but with greater and greater passion, and then it's just the two of us, and the whole world exists only to give the power of our love some expression. That's my perfect Valentine."

"Wow." Monica sounded breathless. "Like, wow. That is soooo romantic."

"Yes." Rachel wiggled slightly in the bed. "It is. I want that one day. When I get a valentine like that, I'll know I've found the man of my dreams."

"You'll find him, Rachel." Monica clasped one of Rachel's hands in both of hers. "I know you will."

I know I will too. Rachel closed her eyes, letting her conceit remain unexpressed. She knew, she knew she was going to get everything she wanted, that she'd have a great husband with lots of money, and they'd live in Scarsdale or somewhere, and the house would be beautiful and he'd be beautiful and it would all be perfect perfect.

It was her destiny.

* * *

.  
"Emma! Don't... put that down!" Rachel tried to grab the remote from her daughter. "I have a lot of work to do and I can't concentrate if you play it too loud." 

Emma stubbornly kept the remote out of Rachel's easy reach and instead increased the volume on the DVD she was playing. Rachel grimaced and rubbed her temples. Whose idea was it to put the computer desk in the living room? But then again, where else could they put it - besides the kitchen / dining area, there was the bedroom she shared with Ross, and Emma's room. No place she could go to for any real privacy.

She turned in her chair and considered Emma. Gleefully she turned up the volume two more settings. Emma was currently in some kind of contrarian phase, where she delighted in doing the exact opposite of whatever Rachel asked of her. According to Ross this was a good and healthy sign; Emma was asserting her independence. He said they should be proud of having such a well-adjusted daughter. Be that as it may, Rachel still found it darned annoying.

Rachel took two deep breaths, trying to exhale the irritation. "Emma, sweety, if you turn it down I'll give you a cookie." Bribery, she'd been reduced to bribery, at least when Ross wasn't around.

"Okay." Emma immediately turned the volume down one notch, then at a small frown from her mother five or six more notches. That brought it down to barely tolerable levels.

Rachel stood up, got a small chocolate-chip cookie from the kitchen, and handed it to Emma. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Emma took a bite out of the cookie while watching trains with faces move about on the television screen.

Rachel went back to her computer and stared at the charts some more. Projected sales. Actual sales. Quarterly goals. Number of items expected per transaction to meet those goals. All numbers, all meaningless, nothing giving her an idea of how to accomplish what they wanted.

The door opened, and Ross came in. "Hello."

"Daddy!" Emma turned off the television and ran up to her father. This led to an impromptu five-minute play session. Ross never seemed to tire of these kind of interactions, never expressed anything but delight at being bum-rushed by his daughter every single time he entered the apartment. Rachel loved him for it but couldn't help feeling slightly frustrated at times - couldn't he just one time express some exasperation towards Emma? It would help Rachel feel less wretched about how hard it was at times to keep from snapping at her almost-three-year-old daughter.

Eventually Emma went back and turned on the television. Ross made his way over to the desk and leaned down. "Hey."

"Hey." She lifted her chin and they kissed. Rachel tried to lose herself in it. Please, Ross, take me away, lift me above this for just a few seconds, make it all worthwhile. But all too soon the moment ended, and Ross broke off the kiss. "So, did you talk Phoebe out of the incense?"

"For the most part, yes, although she wants something on the altar. I promised to ask your rabbi."

"Oh. Well, we'll see." Ross stood up. "I called the sitter, she can come tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?" Rachel frowned. "What's tomorrow night?"

Ross seemed mildly surprised. "It's Valentine's Day, sweety."

"Oh." She'd forgotten that completely. She felt suddenly glad that Ross had not. It would be nice to have an evening alone with him. "Okay, where are we going?"

Ross grinned. "Let me surprise you."

There was a knock on the door. Emma immediately ran over and began fumbling with the doorknob. Ross walked up behind her, unlocking the door and helping Emma pull it open. Emma began bouncing. "Aunt Phoebe! Aunt Phoebe!"

"Hey there Emma dear." Phoebe squatted and gave Emma a hug. "Ooh, you're getting so big. Tomorrow you'll be as tall as me!"

"No I won't," Emma said chidingly.

"Okay, but the day after for sure!" Phoebe stood up. "Is Mommy home?"

"Yes yes." Emma grabbed Phoebe's hand and pulled her towards the desk. "Mommy, Aunt Phoebe wants to see you."

"Thanks, sweety." Rachel looked up at Phoebe, shared an amused look.

"So, how about we change you and get you ready for dinner," Ross said. He picked up Emma. "You want beets or corn?"

"Beets!" Emma's voice faded as Ross carried her into her room.

Rachel silently thanked Ross for providing her this moment of peace. She gestured Phoebe towards the couch and they sat. Phoebe began digging into her purse. "Okay, bridesmaids dresses. I have some designs I'd like to go over with you."

She handed Rachel some photos. Rachel steeled herself and accepted them. As she looked them over, relief percolated through her. All of the designs were tasteful and elegant. "I like the blue ones. Or the pink, except it would look better in a different color."

"Yes, I think so to. It also comes in green but they didn't have any samples at the store. They should have them by the weekend if you want to come down."

"We'll see, I may have to meet a client for lunch on Saturday. No rush, we have a few months yet."

"You'd be surprised how quickly it will all go by."

Rachel looked up at Phoebe. "Did it? When you were waiting to be married to Mike?"

Phoebe smiled widely. "Like nothing. Monica kept be so busy, and I was so excited, and like that it was here."

"Gosh, it seemed to drag on and on when I was getting married to Barry." Rachel settled back into the couch. "In retrospect that was a bad sign, I guess. It felt more like an impending execution."

Phoebe giggled. "Yeah, that would qualify as a bad sign. So how's it feel now?"

Rachel looked back at Phoebe, surprised somehow by the question. "I... I don't know. I... I've been so busy, with work and Emma, I... I don't know."

"Oh." Phoebe looked unusually sober. "So, you're not busy right this very instant. What's it feel like?"

Rachel studied herself. "I... I guess... I feel like I'm waiting to feel. I don't know what that means, exactly. But, but I'm not entirely certain how I should be feeling and I'm, like, waiting for a sign."

"Ah." Phoebe nodded knowingly. "Waiting for the magic to arrive."

"I guess." Rachel considered that. "It's as good a phrase as any."

"Well, don't worry." Phoebe nodded once, firmly. "It'll come. You two are destined for each other. That magic will come."

Rachel lifted a corner of her mouth. "I thought we were destined for a divorce before you married Ross."

"Oh, did I say that once? Well, you know, I'm sometimes wrong." Phoebe reached into her purse. "Like, I'm not entirely certain having Chandler's father perform at the reception is what you're looking for, but I did bring some brochures about the show just so you can decide for yourself."

The smile became fully formed on Rachel's face. She accepted the brochure without comment and found herself deeply grateful that Phoebe was her maid of honor.

* * *

.  
The silence lasted for a couple of minutes before Monica finally stirred. "Want to hit the mall? I don't know if it's too early to be shopping for prom dresses, but-" 

"It's never too early to shop for anything." Rachel got up off the bed and took her coat from the back of the chair. "Saks is having a sale, now's a good time to look."

"Okay!" Monica grabbed her purse off her desk. "Let's go."

Rachel opened the door and quickly walked out, almost running into Ross. She blinked at him; he seemed to like lurking around the hallway or the stairs, doing not much of anything. Like right now, he had his arms folded across his chest and appeared to be in deep contemplation.

Monica noticed, too. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, I'm performing omphaloskepsis."

"What is that?" Monica growled.

Ross spoke in a self-important tone of voice. "The contemplation of one's navel."

Rachel rolled her eyes. Definite nerd alert.

"Well, get your navel out of our way." Monica gave Ross a good shove and stomped past him. Rachel skittered by, waving her hands in a vaguely apologetic manner.

Once Monica got her coat and they were outside, Rachel marginally relaxed. Ross made her nervous in a non-specific way. She wasn't sure why but didn't really want to know; she usually just put him out of her mind as soon as he was out of sight.

However, enough of Ross lingered to prompt Rachel to ask, "Does your brother have a girlfriend?"

"God, no." Monica shook her head. "He just mopes about it all the time. He's in college now, you'd think he wouldn't have a problem. I guess no one wants to put up with his creepiness."

Rachel smiled. "He's not totally creepy."

"Well, he's still not normal. C'mon, we're going to miss the bus." Monica began walking quickly.

Rachel allowed herself to be towed along. Older men, she wouldn't mind someone like Ross. Not him exactly, of course, dating Monica's brother would be just too weird. But someone smart, someone with experience, someone who... who could know her, could come to understand her, could read her mind. That was what she wanted. That would almost be better than being rich or good-looking.

Almost.

Monica shrieked and pointed at the approaching bus with the bus stop still half a block away. Rachel laughed and began running, feeling suddenly exuberant, determined to catch the bus and let it take her to her destiny.

* * *

.  
Rachel walked as quickly as she could, just one step away from running. Ross had wanted to meet outside of Central Perk at seven, but she'd been held up at work and it was now fifteen minutes past. She was half a block away but had her cell phone out, prepared for the inevitable complaining phone call. 

But the phone remained silent, and she rounded the corner and saw him standing there, two largish bags in one hand. He waved to her, a smile on his face.

Rachel slowed as she approached. She studied his face for impatience but found none. They kissed briefly and a lot of the tension left Rachel. "Sorry I'm late."

"No problem, I figured you were just held up at work." Ross lifted up the bags. "I thought we could go for a picnic in the park."

Rachel frowned slightly and glanced up at the overcast sky. "February is not the best month for a picnic."

"It's not so bad today. Mid-forties, no wind, not much chance of rain. Come on, let's live life on the edge."

Rachel allowed herself a smile. "All right. Lead on McDuff."

"It's supposed to be lay on, not lead on," Ross said as he clasped her hand.

Rachel rolled her eyes affectionately. "Then lay on, McGeller."

Ross laughed. Together they walked down the street towards the park.

Ross led her to a spot on a hill overlooking a stream but fairly close to both a lamppost and the edge of the park. Rachel approved of all of that, because it was already pretty dark and she appreciated the light. Ross pulled out a blanket from one of the bags and spread it on the grass. Rachel sat and let Ross empty out the contents of the bag. Many small dishes, and some of Rachel's favorite treats. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the cheesecake.

However, she started with some carrots and onion dip as Ross opened a bottle of wine. He poured a glass for her; she held it while he poured a glass for himself and lifted it up for a toast. "Happy Valentine's Day, sweety."

"Happy Valentine's Day." They clinked glasses and took a sip. Rachel's eyes never left Ross's and she found a nice kind of contentment in the moment.

She reached out to take another carrot. They ate in comfortable silence for a while, which suited Rachel just fine. She was feeling happy, this was a good moment. After getting a refill on her wine, she did feel compelled to comment, "This was a great idea, Ross. Thanks."

"You're welcome." Ross grinned. "I'm glad you liked it."

"I do." Rachel took a sip of the wine. "It's perfect."

"Oh? It really is perfect?"

Rachel smiled slightly. "Well... I had a fantasy once of the perfect valentine. I never did receive one like it, but this is pretty close. My fantasy was to receive it on grass, like this, from a man who was pretty much exactly like you."

"Really?" Ross smiled slightly. "Funny, I never thought I looked anything like Kirk Cameron."

Rachel blinked once. "What?"

"I, uh..." Ross sighed, and she could see he was nervous. "I once listened at Monica's door as... as you were describing your perfect valentine."

"Oh." Rachel narrowed her eyes. "How often did you eavesdrop on us?"

Ross shifted uncomfortably. "Trust me, you're better off not knowing."

Which was answer enough. Rachel sighed and shrugged it off. "So, how come you never gave me a perfect valentine?"

"God, Rachel, you don't know how many times I tried." Ross took a big sip of his own wine and looked down at a cracker he was playing with. "That year I scoured the greeting card stores until I found a valentine with two interlocking hearts on the front. I wrote a thousand poems, memorized a dozen sonnets. I practiced the speech I'd give you over and over in the mirror. I didn't do all that the next year because I'd met Carol by then. But when you moved in with Monica, it started all over again. Every year I'd do the same thing. When we were dating, when we weren't dating, when we weren't on the best of terms, when you were pregnant with Emma. God, I even practiced the kiss I'd give you."

"Oh." Rachel studied Ross a moment, saw the earnestness in him, the raw emotion that was both a blessing and a curse. After a moment, she prompted, "You haven't said why you didn't."

"Because... because it seemed like cheating." Ross looked up into her eyes. "Because I had acquired that knowledge unethically. It would have felt like... like I was trying to manipulate you. If you were to ever like me - if I could ever get you to love me - I wanted it to come about honestly."

"Oh Ross." Rachel set down her wine glass, reached over, cupped his chin with her hands, drew him in for a kiss. It lingered for a minute or two, and Rachel put her own emotion into it. It wasn't the kiss she had imagined in her valentine fantasy, but only because she had developed her own language with Ross and the kiss they shared was their own personal definition of perfection.

They eventually separated. Ross looked on the verge of crying and staved it off with, "Wow. And I didn't even have to feed you the cheesecake."

Rachel chuckled, more from affectionate acknowledgment of his need to lighten the moment than in actual humor. She took her hands away and reached down for the aforementioned cheesecake. There were two pieces and Rachel gave one to Ross before taking the final one for herself. It was delicious in a way she had never experienced before.

Rachel felt a peculiar kind of contentment. This was so different from what she had imagined as a seventeen-year-old laying on Monica's bed. She wasn't breathless with passion, Ross wasn't drowning her with expressions of love, no violins were playing in the background. In the past two decades things she had gone through some dramatic changes, and now she appreciated peace as much as passion.

Still... there was enough of the seventeen-year-old left to lament the fact that there was no magic left in her relationship with Ross. Real life had taken over, leaving her fantasies well behind. Rachel studied Ross as he finished up his slice of cheesecake, watching the way his hands and face moved. What she'd found with him was enduring and strong and good, and she could spend the rest of her life watching him. It didn't matter that there were no violins. She was almost positive about that.

Ross set his empty plate down. "Want to head out?"

Rachel nodded. Ross began clearing away the remains of the picnic as she stood up and folded the blanket. The chore was purely mechanical and she let her mind drift. When they got home she'd have to spend some time studying the company's new directives a bit more. Tiring, mind-numbing work. Coffee would be good now, she thought. Something warm inside her before they headed back to the apartment.

"All right. We can stop by Central Perk on the way back."

Rachel stopped in the process of putting the blanket in one of the bags. "What?"

Ross was carefully re-corking the wine. "We have lots of time still, the sitter doesn't expect us for another hour."

Rachel replayed the last minute or so back in her mind. Try as she might, she could not recall actually saying anything out loud. As far as she could remember, she hadn't actually spoken in the past five minutes or so. And yet, Ross had replied as if she had expressed a desire to get some coffee.

Maybe, in some way, she had. Maybe Ross had read her body language, or had remembered enough about her habits to make this assumption.

Or maybe it was just... magic.

The breath left Rachel's body. She grabbed Ross and hugged him tightly. "I love you."

Ross seemed quite surprised but recovered quickly. "I love you too."

A couple of tears fell from Rachel's eyes. Someone who knew her, understood her, could read her mind. She'd found him, found the one she'd been destined for. She'd never fully realized that until just now.

There was passion and romance still to be found in her future. It would just keep coming up in unexpected ways, that's all. Because they loved each other, the magic would keep on going.

And just like that there'd didn't seem to be enough time until their wedding. There didn't seem to be enough time left in Rachel's whole life to find all the magic she could create with Ross.

"Okay." She released him, carefully dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. "Let's go."

"All right." Ross took the bags with one hand, offered her the other.

Rachel took his hand and turned to face her destiny with Ross by her side.

* * *

.  
(the end) 

Author's Notes: I'm still not completely satisfied with this story. If you have any thoughts or any suggestions for improvements, I would love to hear them.


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